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My earliest memories of tea involve a dark little shelf full of my father’s collection…teal blue, orange, and yellow metal tins that no one makes anymore. I was probably about six at the time. I was too young to be trusted to hold them, but he’d let me smell the aged leaves, almost always black or oolong, and drop a few pinches into the tea ball. Looking back, that tea ball probably ruined the real flavor of those teas, but it was good enough to lead me to my own (not so) little treasure trove of precious leaves, mostly Japanese with a healthy selection of black.